


Exeunt

by Mina Lightstar (ukefied)



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: M/M, quintessential onsen scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-11
Updated: 2008-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-23 15:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ukefied/pseuds/Mina%20Lightstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ike and Soren, after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exeunt

**Author's Note:**

> For Lily/measuringlife@LJ.

The mountain pass is like every other mountain pass Soren has ever seen: Ultimately uninteresting. The path is fairly wide and unchallenging, and the most he has to worry about is keeping his mare from straying to the greenery that reaches out. Ahead of him by a pace or two is Ike's stallion and Ike himself, who has tired of sitting in the saddle and is now leading his mount by the reins. Soren thinks it might be good for him to dismount, too; they've been riding without pause nearly the entire day, and his legs will thank him. But then he eyes the setting sun, watching it inch almost imperceptibly down to hide behind the mountain peaks, and thinks that if he dismounts now, it will be for the night. He glances back at Ike, wondering if his friend has given their lodgings for the night any thought.

Soren doesn't remember when they left Tellius; days, weeks, maybe even a month or two ago? It doesn't matter, he supposes. Ike certainly doesn't seem to care how far they've gone or where they're headed. He enjoys the riding, stopping now and again at some point of interest or landmark he finds intriguing. Soren discovers that, away from the mercenaries and responsibility, it's surprisingly easy not to care about minute details such as the hour of the day, or how many times the sun has set.

Ike isn't quiet, most of the time, but he's... different. More grown up, yes, but almost like -- like a fish out of water. It reminds Soren of when, several years ago, Ike was thrust into a position of command and had no idea how to go about it. Now, Ike has broken out of a position of command, and has no idea how to go about _that_.

"Soren," Ike calls, pausing.

"Yes?" he asks, reining his mount in to a stop.

"That must be the inn we heard about," Ike continues, pointing. "It looks like a halfway point for people crossing this range."

Ike is standing at a turn in the winding road, so Soren knees his mare forward to join him for a better look. "Ah." In the near distance is a building, and Soren can see the smoke rising from the chimneys.

"I think tonight, I want to sleep in a real bed."

"There? If you want." Soren pauses, then adds, "As long as I get out of this saddle soon, it doesn't matter to me."

"Hmm. I'm hungry, too."

"Well, let's go, then."

***

It doesn't take long for them to reach the mountain inn, which is incorrectly named "The Peak," and Ike chuckles when Soren deigns to make note of this. It takes even less time to foist their horses on the stable-hand and secure a room. The cost of room and board barely makes a dent in the funds they've brought, the fact of which Soren approves.

"The way you stretch money out," Ike quips as they are walking to their lodging, "I'm convinced you could have one piece of gold and compel someone to give you five in exchange."

"Let's not be ridiculous," Soren starts, but trails off when he opens the door to their room. It's relatively bare and the furnishings are simple, but the two futons are perhaps the most inviting beds he has seen in a long time. There isn't even anything spectacular about them, just fluffy white pillows and crisp white sheets.

"Perfect," Ike declares, brushing by and dumping his pack on the floor. He marches to the far side of the room and opens the sliding door. It gives them access to the onsen in the back. "That is exactly where I'm going."

Soren is all too aware of the aching in his thighs. He still isn't used to riding for so long, on all sorts of terrain. "I think I'll join you." He lowers his own pack to the floor and toes off his boots.

He turns around to lock the door behind them, and by the time he faces Ike again, his friend is half-naked and in the middle of unbuckling his belt. "Ike," Soren scolds in a clipped tone, "get the yukata first."

"Sorry," the other man says, and suddenly they are children again, Ike watching for Soren's physical well-being and Soren watching for Ike's social appearance.

Soren fetches two yukata from pegs on the wall, tossing one to his childhood companion. Then he turns his back on Ike and undresses himself, slipping into the yukata immediately in the face of the chilly mountain air. He thinks about putting his hair up, but then Ike tells him to hurry so he abandons the idea. What does it matter, anyway?

The onsen is natural, steaming, and Soren almost doesn't want to get in. Ike has no such reservations; the taller man leaves yukata and modesty behind, dunking himself in the pool with an exaggerated, grateful sigh.

"Feels wonderful," he says, then waves to Soren. "Come on in!"

"Yes, coming," Soren replies in a more subdued tone. He unties the belt as Ike turns around to walk across the spring, and takes a moment to admire the water that runs down his back, the steam that comes from his skin, the hard, defined muscles and shoulder-blades....

He takes these moments discreetly; he's a professional, has been doing so for years. Soren can drink in the sight of Ike's body, desire it, and betray nothing. Their relationship is perfect, and Soren values that perfection more than anything in the world. Ike only knows what Soren wants him to know.

Soren hides himself with his yukata until he takes the first step into the water. Then he sets is aside, and savors the slow walk into the hot spring. Once submerged, he's almost disappointed that the first feeling of relaxation is over.

He can't go as far in as Ike, so Soren finds a spot in the shallow end and sits down. He lets the water do its work, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. The aching in his legs persists, so he starts kneading them with his fingers.

He's been at it for a while, to no avail, when the waters near him ripple and Ike says, "Your hands are too small."

Soren opens his eyes to give Ike a look, but they end up widening of their own accord when the former commander and lord reaches down to take over. "Ike--" he starts.

"Don't worry, you'll see. Big hands are ideal for this kind of thing," Ike explains flippantly as he sets to work, kneading and massaging the tension away from Soren's sore thighs.

Yes, big hands _were_ ideal, Soren confirms, struggling not to arch into the touches and resisting the urge to part his legs wider.

One moment, Soren feels so, so weak. His sexuality, despite what he would like to believe, is not quite so dormant -- nor is his desire so well controlled. The next moment, Soren is very, very frightened, because for years his self-control has been flawless _only_ because this _precise situation_ has never before occurred. He can desire Ike from afar and betray nothing, but when the only object of his affections is rubbing his naked thighs in a steamy onsen, suddenly all the cards are on the table.

Soren feels inexplicably hot, and he isn't sure it has much to do with the spring. "Ike--" he says again, voice strained because he'll _notice_ , _Ike will notice_ \--

"Relax," Ike replies, in an easygoing tone, and Soren wants to say _that is the problem_ , and tell Ike to stop, and a lot of things Soren has never worried about or really thought about except maybe he should have because then he would know what to do -- and then Ike's hands move and Soren reflexively jumps and Ike notices.

Time stops. Ike looks at him, a little surprised. Soren wants to at once challenge the look and shrink away from it.

"Soren..." Ike begins. His hand hasn't moved from Soren's thigh.

"I'm not sorry," Soren says insistently. He thinks he might be shaking a little, thinks he might be losing his only real friend in the world.

Ike's eyes widen. "I was going to say... it's nothing to be ashamed of; perfectly normal reaction," he adds wryly. "It's good that you're not sorry."

And with that comment, years of subtly, hiding, and aching -- everything -- unravel. " _No_ ," Soren stresses, "I -- I, you..." he glares down at the hot water. "It's not because of some stupid massage."

Ike thinks about this for a while, and the moments drag on for Soren, each an eternity. He watches Ike's expression change -- surprised, contemplative, introspective... Soren knows all of Ike's facial expressions.

Finally, Ike says, "Well, then it's good you aren't sorry."

Soren is dumbstruck; how anti-climatic. "Ike, you... is that it? All you're going to say?"

Ike blinks at him. "Well, I'm kind of surprised, but not as much as you'd think I should be. What do you want me to say?"

It's a good question. Soren thinks on it for about half a second, because he wants honesty. "How you feel," he asks, and decides he might as well go all the way. "I -- Ike, you're everything to me, you must know that." Savior, friend, only love. "W-what about me? What am I to you?"

And at this moment, it's like all those years ago. A younger Ike holds out his hand, offering; a younger Soren hesitates, because no one has ever been so kind and his trust is a fragile thing.

Ike smiles at him, squeezes the thigh he's still holding. "My childhood friend, my constant companion. I can't imagine life without you, Soren."

Again, Soren thinks of the past, of the boy who offered him food when the rest of the world spat on him. _Should he accept this gift, or will it bring nothing but heartache?_ He decided to trust Ike then, and has trusted him ever since.

He feels under the water to take hold of Ike's other hand. "I'm glad, Ike... but, do you...?"

Ike knows what he's asking. "I've never thought of it before," he admits. He studies Soren's face for a long time, as though seeing him for the first time. "I've just always thought we'd be together, that's all. Maybe that was my own way of it."

"Maybe," Soren agrees softly. So Ike isn't opposed, he just isn't ready?

Ike's hand beneath the water shifts, brushes against Soren's lingering desire, stirring it back to life. "Do you want...?"

Soren is taken at once with the fantasy of Ike bending him over the edge of the spring, having him right there. " _No_ ," he grates out, warring with base desire and his true feelings. Not unless Ike....

"Sorry," Ike murmurs, withdrawing a little. "That was cheap of me."

"No," Soren says again, for different reasons. A small splash as he reaches out to touch Ike's wet shoulder. "I -- I know now. That's enough." Now the door has been opened, the true feelings introduced and the idea presented. It's enough, for now.

When they go to bed, they push the two futons together. Soren falls asleep with Ike's warm form wrapped around him, thinking this is the best night of his life.

For Soren, his desire has proven to be not unwelcome.

For Ike, what he feels has been identified.

They have nothing but time, and each other.


End file.
